wonder of the copt
and tiniest
marsh sprite
bright eyed
super girl
in bluebells
& sea-lavender-
pink as a
an essex sky


untangling myself from the sheets and rolling
round i see your smile and it is vast as a
smile, your spider hand comes down onto my
face which is a face lined with worry and black
marks round the eyes and crust

hello you say. hello to you, waking up and
considering tea and all the things, like cash
flow and how to change the world by inventing
a robot super race that is not human in the
best ways. hello softness. your mouth is the

exact warmth of spring, but also wet and dark
like soil. your eyes are mostly full of laughing and
i am pretty sure it is at me. i think this is absolutely
right and my crow’s feet crinkle up into a million
different roads to take and this is also very good

i expect we will be king and queen


Période, and the tower out the
Window. It was transported over ze
Sea! Well that's one way, isn't-it-not.
Romance is a dead horse- Nietzsche
Knew about that. Gendarmes
Guard the girders and Hitler
Only had one boule- he held the
Key in his grubbed up mitt- a Man.

We traverse the Tuileries and look at yon
Kittiwake. He hisses and drives back the
Dross. Get out, he squawks and pierces the
Enemy. The golden ball that rests on the
Water is just for show- this will end
Badly. Faces in a cafe and old skins lying
Around like off a snake. Casual tears and
A church with crosses made from driftwood

Or birch. I am jealous of the peace. There
Is no peace. I think the idea brings me
Peace. Paris. And what
Are you? A beautiful pile of rubble.
The river is high with rain. Padlocks flap
In the thin wind. People try and hang onto things.
In danger of exploding- our bags are full of

Weapons. We are terrorists and terrify
Ourselves. But what about we say. What 
About? And all these bones. What about these
Six million sets of ivories! You kiss me hard
In the bedroom and we wonder about the
Girl in the wallpaper, the rakish Gent-bird,
Hurt by exactitude-
Ossifying in the dark like a self.